A.N. This is the final content of the new chapter. I have labeled it in three parts. If you have read part 1, skip to part 2, if you have read part 2 you might want to read it again because I changed things in it, if you don't care skip to the part labeled Part 3 of 3.

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I haven’t had time to think peacefully. Every time I am around people, someone or something tries to kill me. It is a miracle I am not dead already – and that is what bothers me. I should be dead. The wizards of this world I have been summoned to are very powerful, and use elemental magic heavily. In a fair duel I would only win because I am quick and think fast; defense against the dark arts is my forte, after all. But being a good magical duelist doesn’t mean I should’ve survived every fight; I was outnumbered and wounded in the last one. I really should have died after Nain the Waking Phoenix’s attack, and I really should have died after the White Council wizards ambushed me. A sword through the heart isn’t anything even Madame Pomfrey would take lightly – but I did live through it, all because of my fallen angel.

She has kept me alive. Every time those wizards burned a hole through my leg, made the earth swallow me, or outwitted me to fell a killing blow, Roqariel simply regenerated me. I won because I wore them down; and because Roqariel helped bring out some potential from my darker abilities. The White Council wizards couldn’t stand the affect of a hundred Dementors’ feeding. Merlin, I don’t know how I survived when that happened to me so long ago.

So I really should be dead. I was beaten, not once, but again and again. I am not a fully trained wizard; I just have a lot of aces up my sleeve. It used to be only Mum’s love that saved me from fatal encounters with Voldemort, then Dumbledore died and passed his mantle on to me, making me the cardinal light, and now I have a dark angel sharing my body. But if I didn’t have these things saving me, I would be dead. On my own, I should be dead. I am good, I have talent in flying, defense, and since Dumbledore’s sacrifice I have a knack for transfiguration too, but that isn’t enough.

I don’t know if I will be so lucky against this White Council again. I don’t know if I can beat the Gatekeeper if I see him. I’m pretty sure I can’t.

Looks like I have to go back to school. I need to learn about this world and its magic. I need to survive; maybe hide somewhere I can learn for a while. Then I can destroy the White Council and go home.

There is, of course, the problem that I am trapped in my own mind.

An other commands my body. Maybe all children get rebellious. Roqa is moving fast; I haven’t had her two days and she’s already suppressing me.

I sigh. I should’ve learned my lesson when I first met her; when she first tricked me with her innocent face to get close enough to stab me.

I am tied to the bone-white weeping willow on the shore of the blood ocean where I found Roqa earlier. Chains of some flexible metal have my arms stretched above my head, going round the tree trunk. They can’t really hold me back; but like I said, I haven’t had time to think peacefully. Roqa’s betrayal is convenient; she has to protect my body out of her own interest, so I can leave her to take care of White Council wizards after me. In the mean time I am free to plot, and go over the real memory of what has been happening.

I know now that Roqa charmed my memories to show me how the duel against the ambushing wardens went. She hid from me that I had noticed when she had taken over my body to try the disembowelment curse. She hid the fact that I had tried to resist her, leading to the botched up spell I had made her write an essay about later.

She tricked me into thinking I had given her permission. Clever little Hellion. For some reason I can’t really be mad at her. It’s my stupidity; for falling to Lasciel’s demonic lust and then Roqariel’s innocence. Besides, I think she has a split personality; caught between caring for me and contempt for me. Being locked in my own mind means I have all the time to spy on Roqariel’s thoughts, and she has no idea what she is doing.

I promised Lasciel to protect Roqariel. In hindsight that’s a pretty bad idea. I can’t really kill her for betraying me now, can I? I gave her access to my mind and soul when she used her powers to heal me in the fights against the phoenix and the wardens. I was too near death for her not to have spread herself inside me completely to heal me. And that has given her power over me.

The rotten smell under the willow keeps me awake and alert, not too far I can hear the blood ocean’s waves lapping at the white shore. I could have locked her in my mind and kept her there. My promise to keep her safe would be fulfilled. Instead I let her play in my memories, learn my magic. I love children. It’s not my fault she suckered me.

But there are parts of my mind and soul she can’t get to. Those are parts I did close off, that I know are dangerous, and I am not foolish about. When I escape from the bowing tree I will go there, where she can’t find me, and I will think.

Lucky for me, Roqariel doesn’t have a lot of experience with human hosts. She had one who had abused her. It makes sense she is eager to dominate me…and then there is the fact that she is a mostly fallen angel. There is something there that I can exploit; Roqa can’t access Hell’s strength all the way. She’s stuck in between. Nain, the waking phoenix, told me I could choose for her which way she went. I am thinking Heaven, personally. I don’t think a nice angel would’ve had the cunning to think of stopping my hallucinations. It was the last thing she said to me before leaving me tied to the tree, “I am sorry my darling keeper, I have taken your friends from you. They give you too many ideas.” Like I said, smart little Hell baby.

I try to look through her eyes looking through mine, and see a side walk with people walking busily back and forth. I don’t know what she’s up to. But she is distracted and worried. Good time for me to go.

I am the cardinal light. I seek peace and wisdom, I say the words of invocation quietly, as Dumbledore taught me in his dying moment. I feel the skin of my face tingling, and a cold breeze reaches right into me to touch my lungs. There is nothing to worry about, no distractions, the smell of the blood ocean. The abrasive chains on my arms fall away, as I disappear into the tree trunk of the weeping willow.

I am falling, falling, falling.

I haven’t been here in a long time. I remember when I first found this place inside me, and realized Voldemort owed his life to me. Then it had been a small twisted creature, a baby sized abomination. I had used it to vanquish Voldemort. He hadn’t been expecting I could use his own soul to steal more of him. He hadn’t expected how much losing Hermione, Ron, and betrayal of the Ministry, would make me change my ways.

I had touched the ugly creature and through him I had ripped parts of Voldemort’s soul, bringing him inside me. It had unbalanced the Dark Lord enough for me to attack him with one of the three true spells of the cardinal light. He is gone from my world, except the parts that stay inside me, and I am down to having only access to two true spells.

I keep falling until the hot, punishing winds of a desert slap my consciousness around. In this place inside me there is always a storm, the meaner to keep Lord Voldemort’s part-soul frayed and shredded. The winds whip it around, never letting it settle. He is lower than what he was after he first tried to kill me as a baby.

I land on packed earth, which holds a make-belief body of Lord Voldemort. His eyes are human and white, glazed over in death, and his mouth is open a little in lingering pain. The body isn’t real, nor is the ground. But it is the only way I know of locking away the parts I stole from him. Tattered black shapes of his soul are beaten around in the winds above me, coming from the mouth of the pretend corpse in my mind

.

This is a place Roqariel can’t enter; this is a place I never gave her permission to come. I wonder if she has noticed I am gone. I don’t care too much. I have time to think. It’s a gift she’s unknowingly given me. By betraying me she’s also convinced the power Dumbledore passed me to help me. The cardinal light has a mind of its own, or their own, I’m not sure how it works; except I have to beg it to help me for the major magic. Mental and spiritual strength, wisdom of the light side are the sort of things they can hold back on. They aren’t holding back right now.

It is strange to feel this peaceful, strange to have this current of assurance inside me. It is so different from my madness, my anger, and feelings of betrayal that I live with all the time. It reminds me of someone I used to be, or could have been. No drip drop, no dead friends appearing to give advice. Nothing to stop the pain of the war I went through except this quiet acceptance of deaths and tragedy. It feels wrong to accept it. Feels like betrayal. And I am not a traitor.

But spiritual strength of the cardinal light can’t be denied. It is taking over my emotions, smoothing them out to make them a serene and calm ocean. It is from this place where my minor curse of prescience comes, where I learned the brute methods of healing, and this is where I find wisdom of those who bore the weight of the cardinal light before me. A normal wizard would be humbled, but I know the light can turn its back on you as fast as the dark. I know that it is as ruthless as it is kind; I did kill Lord Voldemort with one of the cardinal spells after all – it wasn’t very merciful magic. Knowing all that makes me wary, even though I am at peace.

Only a fool lets himself be awed by the primal magic. It can eat me just as easily as Voldemort in his day.

In front of my mind’s eye the tempest shredding the remains of the Dark Lord’s soul disappears. I see deep blackness, but I am not afraid, I am with the Light now; with it comes patient arrogance which helps me look down on death. So what if I am suddenly transported in endless darkness? It is rather quaint. I think I am starting to echo professor Dumbledore.

There in the dark I see myself hunched over in space, with frost on my face and eyes. There is a strange fire spinning around me, crawling over my skin. It looks like it has eyes… And I am talking to it. Roqariel Anane sharing your warmth in the Void, my own voice answers my question.

The blackness disappears and I see myself standing somewhere on Earth. I have both my wands out and my eyes are snake-slit greens. As I watch, a warden of that cursed White Council looks me in the face and turns to stone. I watch myself trap a witch in conjured ropes and force her to look in my eyes which are no longer snake-like but human. There is a tense silence for a few seconds then she starts screaming, thrashing madly.

Behind me the Gatekeeper appears and other wizards in black robes and purple stoles. I see myself disapparate away from the pylon of volcanic eruption appearing right where I had been standing. The Gatekeeper whirls around, lightening leaps from his hands at me. It meets a shield and I send my own green lightening back to him – from my hands!

I don’t see if I win because the images change again. This time I see Dresden standing at my back, his face as murderous as mine. A beam of blue white shoots from a carved rod in his hand, punching clean through conjured shields of wizards in grey cloaks. A man I have fought once already appears in my vision holding a sword high, he tries to stab Dresden in the back, but I am there. Green death leaves my wand as I hear my voice become thin and high in incantation, Avada Kedavra. The sword wielding wizard had started drawing a circle on the ground with his staff before I had even cursed him. He had it ready just in the moment the killing curse left my wand, but it didn’t help him. He couldn’t have known the killing curse is unstoppable.

I see myself bleeding, near death. My limbs are flopping or torn, but the same blackness of the void envelops my crushed arms and sides. I get up covered in shadows of blackness so thick it hides the form of my body in broad daylight – and I continue to fight.

This is your legacy, this is what you forgot. This is why the Gatekeeper fears you. Your vengeance drowned his people in blood, and your madness broke your soul, taking Dresden’s righteous heart with you. You escaped again to the Outside, slipping into the fluxing currents of time, until once again you were summoned after the Gatekeeper set the world aright, my own voice speaks to me. I don’t even feel my lips move. It is simply the Wisdom speaking through me.

You will fall again, as you fell for more’n a half century, chosen one. Vengeance is not the path to freedom. Listen to us, my voice admonishes me. It is irritating me. Soon they will ask me to forgive the White Council, to bow to them.

How will you choose for the innocents in your care? My voice asks me. Molly Carpenter lying on her bedroom carpet playing with my wand appears in my mind’s eye, she disappears to show me Roqariel Anane running her child hands in my hair, looking at me adoringly.

“She is a Fallen. She tricked me. She isn’t an innocent,” I say.

A parentless child is she. An angel blessed and cursed to be human compassion to others of her kind. She was born an orphan. Will you abandon her? Be merciful, you are the Light! My voice shouts.

“I. am. Harry!” I shout back. It echoes in an alley I have appeared in. I pant breathlessly, anger making my blood rush.

I see Michael Carpenter, the Knight of the Cross, who I’ve made friends with fighting Deirdre. Her provocative face changes to scarlet metal in front of my eyes. Her hair becomes long and blade edged. She strikes with those at Michael. He holds his sword in front of him. It glows a painful white. So bright that it makes Deirdre shriek and jump back.

“I told your father, Harry is under my protection. But even if he was not, I promise you he is not the kind who would fall to your temptation. He will not take a coin. Come, Deirdre, it is not too late to repent,” Michael tells the girl I had the hots for just a couple of days ago. She has transformed into a wickedly dangerous demon; a very unattractive demon.

Some emotion stabs at my heart, seeing Michael defend me. The man doesn’t even know me, not really. He doesn’t even know I have already taken a coin.

Will you let this innocent burn protecting you? What is your worth prophecy child? Do you no longer protect your own? My voice taunts me.

“I didn’t ask him to. Dumb fools. They always die protecting me. They need to stop,” I say, getting tired. I had asked for wisdom, this isn’t what I meant.

He is right. You took the coin to protect a child. So protect her. Your mind is stricken, and heart asunder, next your soul is to follow. To heal you have to believe in goodness again. To reach your secret power you must love someone again. Save Heaven’s orphan, save the wizard who stood by you as a friend in the future, save the Knight who stands by you today, save the Knight’s child you have promised your knowledge. Love them to find your power, believe in them to heal your maddened mind. For all else is lost, my voice whispers the last.

“How do I get home?” I ask.

Listen to the waking Phoenix Nain. Find Fawkes’ grace in you. We expect great things from you Harry Potter.

I am not amused. As always they just have a bunch of orders for me. The same old story: obey, sacrifice, forgive, and once in a while deliver Light’s wrathful retribution. I was always heavy handed on the last bit. Maybe they’re just trying to round me out.

“How do I survive? Don’t you want me to live? Who carries on being the cardinal light for you bastards? I’m not passing it to anyone. If I die, you die!” The peace that comes from the invocation is slowly leaving me. Hence the outbursts.

Learn magic, my own voice says snidely.

Abruptly the Light leaves me, as disgusted with me as I am with them. Cold touches me and my skin tingles in the wake of the Light going away. I am left looking at Voldemort’s glassy white eyes.

“I bet you’d have better advice. Something like ‘kill them, kill them all!’ Right?” I ask the pseudo corpse. Thankfully it doesn’t respond.

Shall I listen to the Light? It is a bit much realizing the Gatekeeper was telling the truth, I have been fighting him for over fifty years. The magic I could do is frightening too. I actually have ‘death and madness’ in my eyes. Do all my titles mean something real?

I sigh and relish the cold’s affect on my mind. It is refreshing. Two things are for certain, the Light wants what I don’t, and that I gave my word to protect Roqariel. That she has betrayed me doesn’t matter too much, I still have to save her. I don’t know how, so for now I will just have to ground her.

So I have to ‘love again’ to save myself? What a load of dung. I love just fine. I love being free, love moving around, love feeling pain and pleasure, love doing magic again after being able to do nothing for two years frozen in the Department of Mysteries. I love Karrin’s arse, and Charity’s legs.

I hear myself sigh deeply. Can’t fool myself too much. Not in my own mind. Not when Roqariel’s stolen my madness. Is it too much to ask to keep seeing dead people just so you can stay sane?

I don’t want to care. I don’t want to be who I was. I don’t want to love anything. There is no time for love in war. And my wars will never end.

Yesterday I was the chosen one, today I am a demon.

What they call me changes, what they think I am changes.

Only one thing is for certain.

There will be blood – always.

Love has no room in blood, it flows the same red as everything else.

Time to leave this place. Sitting by Voldemort’s dead body always depresses me and makes me think ridiculous things. I look at the faux body I have created for my nemesis once. In dying he put me on the path to becoming his equal one day.

He had some strange powers that creep up in me now and again. Sometimes I stand like him, tilt my head like him just before casting a lethal spell. Sometimes I speak with power in my voice like him. If I don’t watch myself I will take in even more of his mannerisms, even more of his strangeness.

One thing is true, though, when he is a part of me I scare the piss out of everyone. Maybe that is why the Ministry locked me up. Maybe when they saw me walk down the hall to take my Order of Merlin they saw the grace of Voldemort’s darkness wrapped around me.

What an utterly frightening wizard you are Lord Voldemort.

I don’t have love anymore. There is only emptiness and regret there.  But I do have the Dark Lord.

I remember when I first had to expel him from my body I used love. At least that is what Professor Dumbledore said. Now I have another dark thing to take my body back from. I don’t have love but there is always Voldemort’s way. Even he couldn’t break my will, but if I add my dark inheritance from him to my mind, I can take on a Fallen Angel.

I smile as I remember my last days. The days I thought I was going to die any moment. When I was first free from fear of death. Oh! I remember. I remember so well now how they looked at me when I carried your body to them, Voldemort. They were in awe, they were grateful to tears, but they were also afraid.

It had been so…delicious. Satisfying.

I have always held my head high. Up to that day I had held it high in defiance. It was the first time I stood as I did not out of defiance, but knowing I deserved to be looked up to, knowing that I should look down on them. I never realized I was becoming your equal, learning your ways.

You were right, Voldemort. Being you is powerful.

I forgot that. I have been stumbling in madness and vengeance.

I will take what is mine. I will be looked up to again, and I will look down on them again. The innocents in my care will not be harmed, because they are in my care. I will save Roqariel, because she will not dare do anything but be saved.

I laugh freely.

The light is both wrath and compassion. I will choose to be wrathful, Voldemort, that is something you and I are both.  Just like old times.

I rise out of the storm back to my consciousness where Roqariel rules right now. I feel her surprise as I appear in the forefront of my mind, sharing the space with her. My senses return to me and it feels like being hit.

Sight, sound, taste, touch, smell slap me awake. I blink a few times, sensing Roqariel’s demonic warmth on my skin. We’re in a copse of trees, it is daylight, but it is all wrong. The tree trunks are red and wet. Grass’s green is peaking through in spots from the blanket of blood. Roqariel is standing off to my right in her white child’s dress, Blood is pooling between her tiny bare toes. Her red brown eyes are staring at me with the gleam I know screams murder.

“You weren’t happy with my evisceration hex, my keeper,” she says with a smile showing her perfect little teeth. The daggers whose keenness I have felt myself are hanging from her hands. They are spattered with all the damned red around us.

“Circe befouled,” I whisper, feeling tension grow between my eyes as if I am about to pass out. There are people nailed to the tree trunks. They are open sternum to navel. Two men, a woman, and a teenaged girl.

“They wanted to talk to you about God. They wondered if you knew how Jesus Christ worked in your life,” she said. “I talked to them about how we felt. Aren’t you proud, my darling keeper, I think I’ve learned the difference between the evisceration hex and the disembowelment curse.”

I look down at my hands, they are red, my Holly wand is stained. I did this. She did this with my body. Her daggers are just an illusion, she was simply the mind that drove my limbs and magic to murder.

“Roqa, I commit my own murders. Leave my body, don’t step in my memories, bury yourself in my unconscious. Don’t dare show yourself until I call you.”

She tucks her daggers in the rope belt around her dress. “No. I am the Fallen Angel Roqariel Anane. You do not command me mortal. Besides, I did this for you. You’ve become weak. I am giving your anger back to you, so you don’t forget yourself.”

“This is for your own blood thirst, not mine. These were not my enemies. Leave me, now!” I shout. The metallic stench of the blood, and its slickness is making me feel uneasy.

Roqariel flinches back from me. But she is smiling. Why is she smiling?

“Your voice has power once again, my keeper. I feel your wrath. Ummm, it is warm. Don’t you remember the void, you kept me warm. I was right, you remember yourself. You are mine,” she practically shivers in pleasure, skipping to me, sending sprays of blood up.

I look to the muggles nailed to the trees, and the offal. She is madder than I am.

“I belong to myself, Roqariel Anane. It is time you learned your place!” I grab her by her fragile little neck. She smiles her adorable smile; all pink little lips and white perfect innocence.

A cold, dank place opens in my mind. Hogwart’s dungeons. She fights me, scratching at my arms, burning me with Hellfire, but it is dulled against my will and Voldemort’s black wrath.

“You are only half-fallen, Roqariel Anane. You can not hurt me when I have known darkness without remorse. Stay here, until I come for you.”

“Let me out, I’ll choose Hell and crush you!” Suddenly she pouts, I can see her heartbreak in her face. “Please, I don’t want to be alone. I love you. I only want you. You promised you would take care of me. “

“I will, Roqa. I promised I would protect you. And it is for me to decide how far you fall. You are different, and I know it. So don’t make empty threats.”

Her cute face is blank now. The eyes tell me nothing. “You were easier to control when you were mad, my host. Healing your mind was a mistake. I am much more powerful than you think,” even her voice has changed, become double and sinister. “Why don’t you look out of your eyes again. Why don’t you truly see the gift I gave you.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve seen worse,” I ask, though something is worrying me.

She smiles. “The man and the girl on the same tree. You’re not letting yourself see. Why is it you know so much about these curses, my host. Who of yours suffered them?”

I leave her in the dungeon of my mind, to find myself standing as I had been in the middle of a copse bathed in human blood. Their faces are stretched in pain and agony. Fear, hopelessness, complete despair. My eyes go over the tree where a man and girl are frozen in the last moment of pain.

Their hands are intertwined.

Agh! My head, my eyes!

I look again. My heart beat races. My blood is rushing. Something is very wrong. Why are they holding hands?

Where…oh, no!

Hermione. Ron.

My wretched stubborn friends. My family.

I breathe, and taste metal. There isn’t enough air. My body convulses. I’ve fallen to the ground. I can’t seem to be able to get up.

It hurts.

Remember, my host. This is what made you the true you. This is the beat to which we danced in the void. I am yours, darling keeper. I will spill the blood of your enemies to bury the ones of your family. Release me.

“You did this to me.” I cough, snorting the fucking blood everywhere. “I, I. Enough!”

I will take it away. Just hold me, I beg you. I belong to you. Don’t leave me here.

“Silence!” Voldemort’s magic pours into my words, rage sings in my heart almost choking me. Roqariel can’t speak even if she wants to, she is too far. Too far to hurt me.

Hermione is here, she is rubbing my shoulder. Ron is scrunching his nose at Roqa’s victims, my victims.

“I knew it was a trick. Sorry I fell for it guys. It’s been a rough few weeks,” I tell my friends, my family.  Hermione motions that we should leave. I agree, and stand up to go but she pats exasperatedly at my bloodied clothes. Ron shares a smile with me over Hermione’s mothering. Two or three charms and I am clean. I transfigure my clothes to something more elegant than my under-robes. Some dark maroon and blacks, cut in a way to they can be mistaken by casual observers to be muggle fashion.

Funny, even after I killed Voldemort and became touched by his strangeness, Ron and Hermione were always by my side.

It’s like old times. Always like old times, me, Ron, Hermione, and Lord Voldemort.

I will save you Roqa, and you will not dare not be saved.

Yes, my distraught keeper, now that you have your friends you will save me.

“But you are grounded for now,” I tell her, wondering why I was so angry with her before. It doesn’t seem so important anymore. She did something, I can’t remember.

We’re coming out of a copse of trees, it looks like a park. Ron and Hermione are shooting me worried looks. I smile at them and they look much happier. What were we doing in those trees anyway? I sniff, think I smell of blood. Funny, where would I have gotten blood on myself.

Doesn’t matter. I have things to do. Learn magic, fight White Council, find that woman’s husband I was going to. And save Roqa.

I thought she was safe. Ah! Have to choose Heaven for her. Must ask Michael Carpenter about the ‘fallen tongue” business. It might help with it.

“Hermione, time to study some unknown magic. Ready?” I ask my most loyal friend. The look on her face tells me I’ve just made her wet her panties. Maybe I should’ve gone for Hermione; foreplay with her is too easy. Ron’s off and disappeared. Of course. “We’re going to Dresden’s. The books I borrowed from him just went over basics, I need different ones.”

Hermione nods and we pop away from the park. Appearing in Dresden’s home. I see all around me people in brown robes, staring at me in shock. I see some junk food, some fast food, a lot of board games and cards. I also see staves lying here and there. They are wizards and witches.

I call both my wands to me. My holly wand to my right, Voldemort’s wand to my left. Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus! Immobilus! Impedimenta! Expelliarmus!

In seconds I have the half dozen strangers at my mercy. But I want more. I want to feel their fear. I want to see their helplessness. They are shocked right now, but soon they will realize that they should be afraid too.

There is blood on my holly wand. Something itches at the edge of my mind; it’s as if I’ve forgotten something very important. There are quite a few things I can’t remember, like what I was doing in the park and what was in the trees that I had come out of. I grip Voldemort’s wand tightly, searching in my mind. His strangeness brings a hot intense control which lets me see things I don’t usually.

Yes, something definitely is wrong with my memory. There is nothing in Dresden’s world that I need to shy away from remembering, so what is it? I will find out soon enough. First I must see to the brown-robed wizards and witches.

They all have varying magical power, Voldemort’s talent tells me. They are not especially dark or evil. They haven’t used dark magic, at least not enough to be stained by it. All of them are fairly young, younger than me, at least.

“Who are you and what are you doing in Dresden’s home?” I ask a girl, releasing her from the conjured gag and ropes.

“I’m Amber Palmer, we’re apprentices. We are keeping watch for the Outsider. Are you from the brute squad from Archangel?” She laughs nervously. “You must be to slip in without us noticing and taking us all out so quickly.”

Brute Squad from Archangel? Hmm. Good of her to assume. Their name is pretentious enough. They probably inspire fear. Now that I am back to who I was before the Ministry imprisoned me I can be convincing as someone from a ‘brute squad.’ Just have to be careful, I cannot act mad around them. Hermione, stay in the shadows, watch my back.

“You have a keen eye, Apprentice Amber. Forgive me if I question the White Council’s intelligence, however, for leaving six apprentices to face the Outsider,” I say, summoning Dresden’s office chair.

She actually wrings her hands like a school girl. I can’t believe my luck. I was going to spend hours looking for information in books instead I stumble onto a bunch of students who can tell me what the White Council is all about. I can learn magic later, they will teach me about my enemy.   

“I d-don’t think they expect the Outsider to really come here, sir. He knows that Dresden is being watched. I think they left us here to keep us out of the way; and maybe to annoy Dresden,” she says with a sheepish smile. She’s not too bad looking; average height, dirty blond hair brushed to a sheen, brown eyes on a clear face, could even have a decent figure under her robes. But she is probably too young for me. Maybe one day.

“Yes, most likely,” I agree while my mind churns. Dresden is staying faithful to me apparently.

“Um, sir?” she asks. “Could you let them go?”

I grin at her knowing it will make her apprehensive. The smile has its affect. “I suppose I can trust you enough. But this doesn’t mean I believe you completely. I find six of you in the home of someone under suspicion acting as if you own the place. It doesn’t lend credence to your words. I shall be keeping your staves.” I summon the six wooden staves to myself and put them under my chair.

“I am advanced in my studies enough to use my electromancy without a focus, sir. If I really wanted to attack you, I could,” Amber says, raising her chin a little. “You can trust us.”

I cock an eyebrow at her making her lose her bluster. She lowers her eyes and blushes. Merlin, it is easy to affect people when I stop apologizing for my power and act myself.

“Show me, Amber,” I order.

“It could be dangerous, sir,” she tries to get out of it.

“Hmm, how old are you? Perhaps, you really are too young to even house-sit.”

“I am fifteen, sir,” Amber bites out. “If it pleases you, I can show you what I can do.” She holds up her hands as if she is spreading them in prayer. Sunlight yellow light suddenly dances between her finger tips. She looks at me, challenging me.

“Very good, Amber. Can you use it offensively? Hit me with it, please,” I say in my most bored voice. It offends her fragile pride. Sun-yellow electricity forms in shape of discs in her palms. She hurls them at me with a wonderful sizzling sound.

I catch both discs in my hands, letting the power shiver through my skin and light up my nerves. Then I push it back to pool in my hand where I transfigure the two discs into yellow roses. Standing up I walk to her, she takes a frightened step back but I hit her with a charming smile. It was an old act of Lord Voldemort to charm and frighten them at the same time. She is quite a bit shorter than me but much healthier, the pink in her cheeks is telling enough. I put the two roses behind her ear with a minor sticking charm.

“Wonderful work, Amber. I believe you” I wave my wand releasing her friends. “I have been out of contact with our world for a long time. My mission took me deep in the forests of Albania. So introduce yourselves and tell me what the situation is.” I sit back in Dresden’s chair, leaning back and crossing my legs as if it is a throne.

A dark-skinned wizard jumps up after I release him from the body-bind. He has his hands on his sides, fingers splayed, as if he’s going to go for guns like a cowboy. Except he doesn’t have any guns.

“Ramirez!” Amber warns, holding up a hand. I give him a full on look promising pain. His posture becomes less threatening. The others have come out of their binds less angry than the Ramirez boy. Of course, two of them were stunned. They are still confused.

“Sorry, sir, just a reaction,” Ramirez apologizes. I give him a patronizing nod. He should remember his place. Amber is telling the ones who were stunned who I am. They all look awed that I am from the Arcangel brute squad.

Amber sits on the edge of Dresden’s love seat, leaning on her knees. “How long have you been gone, sir? May we know your name?” she asks.

“I have been gone for years. I don’t have any recent news. You may call me Auror Mad-Eye. Don’t try to conjure by it.” I give her an evil smile. Some of the books I had borrowed from Dresden said that one should never give their full name to other magic users. In this world it forms a link over which curses can be sent.

“Mad-Eye?” Ramirez says skeptically.

“It’s a nickname,” I answer looking into his eyes. He quickly looks away. Another thing from Dresden’s book and from my own experience with him: seeing straight into a wizard’s eyes can start a soul gaze.

“Anyway,” Amber interjects nervously. “The Senior Council and some of the White Council’s strongest are in Chicago to take down the Outsider. The Outsider has had two fights with Wardens, once even Lieutenant Morgan fought him. But the Outsider wasn’t defeated.”

Ramirez and other apprentices nod along with Amber’s story. He takes up the tale, “He must be really badass. He took out a party of five Wardens and three lieutenants in the second attack. I heard the Wardens ambushed the Outsider and still weren’t able to kill him. I heard that Lieutenant Morgan was ordered away from Chicago to meet up with Captain Luccio and some other top brass of Wardens. In case the Senior Council fails, the Warden brass will make up the new Senior Council.”

A new girl enters the conversation with a nasty smile. “And the brute squad is going to be the cannon fodder. Or maybe they just called you because you look like you use wands for a focus. I heard that is what the Outsider uses.”

I give the brunette have the full brunt of my homicidal intent.

“Jesus, now I know why they call you Mad-Eye. I’m sorry, can you please stop looking at me like that!” She turns her face away, biting her lip.

“What else do you know about the Outsider besides that he uses wands?” I direct back at Amber.

“He’s a healer,” a quiet boy who has been standing unobtrusively answers. At my questioning look he goes on. “My master is Listens-to-Wind. I overheard him speaking with the Gatekeeper. The Outsider uses white magic and has skill in healing. My master says the Outsider healed someone who was being erased.”

“Right, right. I don’t know why you’re so hung up on that,” Ramirez cuts in derisively. “The White Council declares war on one Outsider, calls the brute squad, the entire Senior Council, and we’re stuck in here doing nothing. While you and your master don’t even want to fight him!”

The quiet boy steps into the room a little more. He is built like a block with strong arms. His face is soft with baby fat, but still has very defined cheekbones. I can’t tell his ethnic background, he’s definitely not just white.

“Fight only when necessary, when it is natural, Ramirez. My master hears the wind, it tells him not to war with the Outsider but to-”

“Reason with him,” Amber finishes for the boy but then looks sheepish. My guess is she wasn’t the assertive one of the group until I singled her out. “I’m sorry. You and Ramirez fight about this all the time. The Senior Council has made its decision.”

“So they have, but I ask you why are we fighting a being that uses White magic, heals mortals, and according to Ramirez’s favorite hero, has a soul?” the boy said before sitting on the floor, having had his say.

“He’s not my hero!” Ramirez snaps, but the smiles on his companions tell me no one believes him.

They know quite a bit about me. I don’t know why my having a soul makes any difference, however.

“So where is the Senior Council now? And where is the Gatekeeper?” I ask.

Ramirez answers my question, probably hoping his outburst is forgotten. “The Senior Council is staking out the Outsider’s haunts. I don’t know where the Gatekeeper is. I doubt even The Merlin knows where he is. Listens-to-Wind is following Dresden with a few of our masters, so if the Outsider makes contact with him they can attack. Ancient Mai is keeping eye on a police officer who is friends with the Outsider, but the Gatekeeper has warned her not to get too close to the officer. LaFortier, The Soothsayer, and Martha Liberty are staking out the home of a Knight of the Cross. We found information that the Outsider has been to see them.”

The mean brunette from before holds up a finger. “LaFortier went off after the Knight’s children. Martha Liberty argued with him over it.”

“What?” I can’t keep my anger bleeding into my magic. Their suddenly wary body language betrays that they felt Voldemort’s voice. “This LaFortier is stalking the Knight’s children?”

“Y-yes,” the brunette answers.

“Shameless,” Ramirez voices, Amber and the blocky boy nod in agreement.

It is a good thing they did, I was about to make object lessons out of them for the White Council… But maybe it will be better to use them. If I can take them hostage, I might be able to get the White Council to back off Michael Carpenter’s family. I stand up and pace up and down Dresden’s part office part sitting room. I notice the two brown-robed kids standing next to each other who haven’t said anything so far.

“What? You two don’t have anything to add to the brown-robe spy network’s information?” I snap.

“Um, they don’t speak English,” Amber explains. “But I like the name Brown Robe Spies.” She smiles.

The brunette snorted. “If our master knew…”

“They do,” Listens-to-Wind’s apprentice declares easily from his place on the floor.

Yeah, go on, think you’re so clever. You’ve been talking to your enemy thinking he’s your friend, sharing your masters’ secret locations. If your masters truly knew you’d be hanging in the dungeons.

“What does the Outsider look like?” I ask, just for fun.

Amber’s face becomes pensive. “No one said anything about that. He’s supposed to look human, that is all I know. Oh, and didn’t the Gatekeeper say his eyes hold death and madness?” she asks her fellow apprentices as I roll my eyes. I’ve seen the past shown to me by the powers of Cardinal Light. If I can learn that trick again I’ll be using it every second.

Ramirez shrugs looking to the blocky kid on the floor who doesn’t have an answer either. Well maybe I shouldn’t judge them too harshly. They don’t even know what to look out for.

“So, hypothetically, if the Outsider did come here, you would have no idea it was him?”

“No. That is why we believe we are being kept out of the way. They did not give us any information. Giving us a pretend mission was just to make us feel like we are doing something,” Listens-to-Wind’s apprentice agreed.

“At least you know it,” I say. I think I have all the information I can get out of them safely. My plan to study magic from Dresden’s books will have to wait. Michael and Charity’s children are in trouble.

A smile curls on my face. Oh, do I have an idea. I will take them hostage after all, but maybe they can be willing hostages. Let’s see.

I stand straight and look down on them measuring them and their magic. Voldemort’s talent shows the Ramirez boy has potential, Amber is powerful but unsure of herself, the blocky boy is connected with his surrounding magic but doesn’t have major innate power, the brunette for all her cockiness is average, leaving the two silent ones who are both strong. Quite a lot of talent in a small room. Maybe they are apprentices of the more powerful staff-wizards out looking for me.

“Do you want a real mission? You can help the brute squad’s secret service.” I wait for them to answer. Ramirez’s face is already saying yes, the rest look unsure. “We will leave the brunette behind with those two,” I point to the pair who don’t speak English. “I need them to make sure Dresden is protected. I came here because I know the Outsider has some interest in him. It is vital that Dresden survives. Do you accept?” I enchant my words with Voldemort’s talent.

The brunette nods unable to resist the compulsion. I motion her to stand. “What is your name, Apprentice?”

“Marjory Heath, sir,” she answers, at attention.

I try to think of some suitably grand language that will impress them. “Apprentice Marjory Heath, do you present yourself as a righteous warrior, determined to fight the darkness and rising evil from the shadows and in silence, without reward or renown?”

“Yes, sir!” she yells, as if she is in the army.

“Warrior Marjory Heath, do you accept the oath to protect innocents and the helpless against both those who would falsely claim to be right and those who fallen to darkness?”

“Yes, sir, I do!” she shouts. This is almost too easy. With Voldemort’s voice magic and them being bored teenagers, how could they say no?

“Oath holder, Marjory Heath, do your recognize you are now sworn to follow my command and morally compelled to adopt the enemies of our order as yours, and safeguard the friends of our order?” I impress myself. I sound like I have done this before. In fact, I sound downright inspired. My sudden talent at oration is very suspicious. I don’t talk like this.

She hesitates; smart girl. I am asking for her allegiance. Hopefully this won’t make her back away.

“Yes, sir, I do.”

Uh oh! That cursed prescience I became afflicted with after taking on Dumbledore’s mantle is showing me things. It is showing me taking her arm…what the hell does it want me to do now?

“Give me your arm, Oath holder,” I order. I pull up her sleeve and put my hand on the inside of her forearm. “By my grace, I name you daughter of the Order of the Phoenix, Marjory Heath. May you stay true to your conscience and oath,” the words flow out of my mouth, not mine, but of something else. Maybe it is an echo of what Albus Dumbledore used to say. After all he is part of the Light now, and it is his order I just swore this girl to; he may have used my prescience to protect them against how I was planning on using them. Bastard.

Merlin, there are tears in her eyes. I guess I know how to perform a ceremony. I lift my palm from her arm and under it there is a single burning wing. I’d recognize Fawkes’ wingspan anywhere.

“Thank you,” she says, checking out her light mark.

“You are welcome, Marjory. I am warning you this is not just an exclusive club. You will make many enemies, and you will face very difficult choices. And I warn you if you sully the name of the Order, you will have to answer to me. So never, ever be quick to judge, and always protect those in need, regardless of law or custom. Do you understand?” I see fear grip her, not because of my words but the way I say them. I forget sometimes what accepting Voldemort’s strangeness does to me.

She nods and shuffles back respectfully.

“I, too, will join. The wind speaks in your favor as does the bird song, Auror Mad-Eye,” the blocky boy is standing up.

Bird song? Could it be?

“You heard the phoenix song?” I ask.

“If that is what it was, it was amazing,” Marjory answers with that silly smile that hasn’t left her face since I took her oath. This is getting out of my control. I was going to use them. Instead it feels like I am taking on more people’s responsibility.

“Won’t your master disagree?” Ramirez asks the boy. “Marjory and I hate our masters, so you know why we don’t care about pissing them off. But yours is family and on the Senior Council.” He sounds genuinely worried for his friend.

The blocky boy smiles patiently. “I do not think my great grandfather would have a problem. He would tell me to listen to the Earth. She calls this one a guardian. Something I hope to be one day.”

God damn, he’s putting me on edge. I feel the presence of the cardinal light in me getting stronger by the second. I really hate it sometimes but long ago I chose it myself, I have no one to blame. Whatever they approve of can’t possibly be good for me. Well, there is an easy way to mess with their plans. I am not their tool. I recall reading something in Dresden’s books: the third eye.

“Maybe the rest of you, who want to join me, should look at me with your third eye. I should have offered the same to Marjory but what is done is done.” I smile, knowing the truth of me is mired in war, murder, touched with Voldemort’s darkness, possessed by Roqariel Anane. All those things can’t possibly be outmatched by the Cardinal Light in me, or whatever Fawkes’ grace is.   

I watch them all as they get dreamy looks on their faces. Suddenly they pale. Marjory’s drink falls from her hand. Ramirez swears tearing his eyes away. Amber is stricken, frozen in place. But the big guy who talked of Earth and bird song is calm and simply nods.

“My God, what are you?” Marjory gasps.

“Wishing you hadn’t sworn an oath to me?” I ask, without any malice. I am simply curious.

She shakes her head no. “I just don’t know what I’ve signed up for.”

“And you?” I ask the tall blocky boy.

“It is as the Mother said. You are a guardian. It is not surprising you are what you are when even the Mother takes notice. I am ready for my oath. My name is Dakota, I wish to be sworn as a guardian, if you think I am worthy,” he says.

I arch a brow. This is unexpected. “You lot sure your third eye doesn’t need a check? You are supposed to see my true self, aren’t you?”

“And a little of what could be your future or past. You are shadow and light,” Amber finally speaks coming out of her shock. “Something very wrong happened to you.”

I can only blink at them stupidly. What the fuck is going on?

You must care again. You must love again. We shall save you, despite yourself, Harry Potter. Just as you shall save Roqariel Anane, despite herself. I hear the voice of Cardinal Light in my mind.

You conniving, backstabbing, drippings of Morgana’s twat!

“Fine. Line up, I will swear you all in. I have work to do. This has taken more time than I wanted.” I will still use them like I wanted, except now they won’t be expendable. Oh, bother.

I didn’t expect Amber to agree to join after her reaction to looking at my true self, but she did. They have their staves back and I am ready to move. I charm the last envelope closed after writing it. I hand them to Marjory Heath.

“These are for your masters. It explains that I am responsible for your lives now. The name of our order, how you were sworn in, and your light marks are secret. Don’t betray this knowledge. Put the name of everyone’s master on these envelopes give them to those two. You are coming with me,” I tell her.

“I thought you wanted me to stay here and guard Dresden,” she asks taking the letters and the pen from me.

“Plans change. Dresden is a big boy, he can handle himself. Are you lot ready?” I ask. The two quiet strong siblings have joined Ramirez, Amber, and Dakota. Ramirez seems to be trying to explain that they aren’t going.

My darling keeper, I can speak to them for you.

I ignore Roqariel. I have a feeling my loss of memory is because of her. Something is making me doubt her words and telling me to keep her locked. Her offer isn’t too tempting as Ramirez is somehow able to explain that they need to stay. They look disappointed but comply. Hey if it wasn’t for the language barrier I would have pressed them into service too. Both of them are very strong. Marjory gives them the envelopes and comes over to me.

“We are going to the home of the Knight of the Sword. Your mission will be to protect his family against everyone. This includes LaFortier,” I tell them as I charm a port-key out of a chess piece.

“Yes!” Ramirez punches the air.

“Do you hate your master that much?” Amber asks. “You know he is Senior Council. We’ll be in trouble.”

“LaFortier is using someone’s kids to catch the Outsider. We vowed to protect innocents, no matter what,” Marjory buts in before I can say anything.

“Good little fanatic.” I pat her head. “Everyone touch the rook and don’t let go.”

We start flying and bumping against each other as soon as everyone puts a finger on the chess piece. Before I can get used to it we’re all falling down smacking into Charity’s kitchen floor.

“What the Hell?” Amber groans.

“Up, make yourself presentable.” I point to the girls’ windswept hair. Dakota looks just as peaceful as if he had been strolling in the park. Ramirez is grinning, looking at the pictures around the Carpenter kitchen.

“Charity?” I call walking into the living room, checking the first floor quickly. I catch her on the stairs with a baseball bat in her hand. She takes one look at me and lets out a sigh of relief. Apparently she was cleaning; she has a bandana tying up her hair off of a sweaty face.

“How did you get in? The door was locked,” she says walking back up.

“Hello to you too. Where are all the kids?” I ask climbing after her. I walk into a room with her with boxes and things lying open.

“In Molly’s room. Apparently the walls change color sometimes,” she accuses.

I ignore it. “So everyone is home?” I ask.

“No, Molly isn’t back from school yet. Her bus should be dropping her off at the corner soon. Why?” She gives me a suspicious look.

“The White Council is after me. They found out I had dinner with you, so they are waiting to catch me here. Except one of them is looking for your kids, so he can hold them hostage,” I explain to her, rushing through.

She doesn’t believe me. “This is another one of your jokes? Trying to prove something again?”

I grind my teeth. She really pisses me off sometimes. I turn away from her and stalk to Molly’s room. A chorus of cheers meets me when I open the door. Yup, all of them are there except Molly and baby Hope. I tell the kids I’ll come back and they should stay in the room if they want more magic tricks later. I leave them disappointed, with Charity hot on my heels.

“Where’s Hope?” I ask, walking to where I had seen the nursery earlier.

“She’s in her nursery. Harry, are you alright? Karrin said you weren’t feeling well,” she asks in an offhand way, as if she doesn’t care. Why would she?

“You and Karrin talk?” I ask. Peaking into the nursery I watch baby Hope’s chest rise up and down to make sure she is fine. Charity says something but I am too distracted to notice. “Come down with me.”

“Harry, will you just stop? You can’t just come into my house and start running around.”

“Don’t have the time to convince you I’m not joking. I need to find Molly now and bring her home,” I tell her while running downstairs.

My minions are waiting obediently in the kitchen. With staves in hand and serious expressions, one could almost think they are worthy of the Order.

“Who are these people?” Charity’s voice has a dangerous edge.

“These are the new inductees into the Order of the Phoenix. Oath holders, this is Charity Carpenter. This is her home. You will be protecting her and her children with your lives. No one comes through that door without her consent. Is that clear?” I make quick eye contact with all of them, and get agreement. Of course they will listen. Witches and Wizards years their superior didn’t dare disobey me. Wait that was Voldemort they didn’t disobey. In my case they scurried off quickly before I did something deranged. These things get muddled with time.

“Charity, the big kid is Dakota, the blonde is Amber, the brunette is Marjory, and that cocky kid right there is Ramirez. They are eager to serve, so please stop them from getting themselves killed if it isn’t necessary. I’m going to go to the corner and walk Molly home.” I turn to go but Charity grabs my arm pulling me aside.

“They are children. Have you gone mad?” she demands.

“They have big hearts, Charity. Faith and will matter a lot more in dangerous times than age. I have to go.” I take her hand gently off, squeezing it for a moment.

She wets her lips. “Then my children really are in danger. You aren’t playing a trick to pay me back for what I said the other night?”

I sigh in exasperation, thinking of a hundred curses. “No, Charity. This isn’t a game. These kids know that I am going to stop the White Council from coming after your children. I showed them my true self and they are willing to follow me. At first, I tricked them into thinking I was part of the White Council. So I could use them as hostages if they took any of your children and exchange them. But now…I’d rather not betray them.”

“You lied to them?” Charity asks quietly.

“They are part of a group who would use your children just to get to me. I didn’t think they deserved better. But knowing them a little I don’t think they are like the rest after me. But if it comes down to it you have to put them in between you and the wizards. I hope they won’t attack their own.” I look through the archway to where the group of teenagers is standing. Either way this ends, it will be bad for them.

“I will put my family first, we both agree on that. Go, bring Molly home. I will gather the rest.” She nods to me and rushes upstairs.

I walk back to the group. They are too inexperienced to be in this mess. Some would say they are too young, but my life has given me a different perspective.

“Two of you will stay with Charity and two of you will guard the door. Follow what she says. Protect her and yourselves the best you can. Keep to the oath,” I tell them and they dutifully nod.

The doorbell rings. I motion them to hide. Looking through the peephole I see a tall, bald man with his hand on Molly’s shoulder standing at the end of the driveway. My anger mixes with Voldemort’s wrath rising like a fever in me. I signal to Amber to come up to the door and have her look through the peephole.

“LaFortier?” I ask.

Amber frowns at me from under her dirty blond hair. “Don’t you recognize him?”

“Answer me,” I say through clenched teeth, watching the slight girl’s eyes show white in fear.

“Yes, it is him.”

Charity’s come down; she pads over to me quietly. The bell rings again, but no one is at the door. A spell then. “Who is it,” she asks.

“Wizard, name o’ LaFortier. He has Molly,” I answer.

She gives a tight nod. I can see her jaws working. “What are you going to do,” she asks with much forced calmness. Her allusion to my brown-robed school-age wizards and witches isn’t lost on me.

“I will go get her. Open the door, keep him talking. Make him think you are alone. Where are your children?” I look back at her to see a little sweat marring her brow. She is worried and very afraid.

“They are safe, in a panic room. I will go there when you get Molly. What about them?” she nods to Amber.

“Amber, stay hidden, only attack if they try to get into the house. You’re in charge of the team, but Charity has command. Got it?”

“Yes, I’ll go tell the others.” Amber scoots away.

“Open the door. Don’t worry. Molly is as good as in your arms.” I cast a disillusionment charm and sneak back.

“Thank you,” she says in a very tight voice. But she squares her shoulders and opens the door.

Now I just have to wait for my moment. Voldemort’s talents tell me that LaFortier is a wizard of great power. He has some darkness in him, a little more than Dresden. He is beyond my current abilities. I will have to use surprise.

Charity opens the door and looks at LaFortier showing no fear. “You have my daughter. Let her go.”

“Mommy!” Molly screams. I watch as LaFortier pulls the little girl back. Blackness itches under my skin. This wizard will pay for threatening what I have named mine.

“Mrs. Carpenter. I believe you have a way of contacting someone we are looking for. A boy with round glasses, uncut hair, wears red robes. You had him for dinner. Please call him here,” LaFortier speaks with an accent. His long fingers are digging into Molly’s shoulder, wrinkling her pink baby-doll shirt.

“My daughter has nothing to do with him. Let her go. I don’t know where he is. He came with a friend of his called Dresden. He would know,” Charity says loud enough to carry easily down the driveway.

LaFortier gives her a nasty smile, something Umbridge would do. “He does not know. But we know he has a weakness for women. I am certain if you call him and let him know I have your daughter he will come.”

Now! I disapparate, appearing a hair breadth behind LaFortier. He is very tall. Sectumsempra! I curse him at the base of his neck even as he is turning. Blood spurts but I duck under it and around LaFortier. His hand has Molly in a vise grip, the poor girl is crying.

That hand will never touch her again. I curse the hand. It will be riddled with dozens of tiny explosions. It is dark magic so he will not be able to heal it. I hear him scream as I wrap my arms around Molly and apparate again.

I pop into the house.

“It’s me, Molly, it’s me!” I yell at the hysterical girl. The door slams shut as Charity comes running to me and takes her child.

Charity wraps Molly up in her strong arms and runs upstairs; probably to the panic room. Ramirez and Marjory follow her, while Amber and Dakota stay with me. I go to them where they are looking out of the front windows.

LaFortier is on the ground. His hand is in the air, still throwing flesh, bone, and blood in the air from minuscule and agonizing explosions. It will be many long minutes before the curse has taken his whole hand. Someone is holding cloth to the back of his neck. That won’t help. He will be dead soon.

“You can teleport!” Amber looks at me slack jawed with fright.

“It will be over soon. Be brave,” I tell her.

“I think you have killed Ramirez’s master,” Dakota observes quietly. “Senior Council members Martha Liberty and Simon Petrovich were under veils. Martha Liberty may save him if her talent at healing is great,” Dakota reports in his calm measured way.

“My God, my God, my God. You killed a Senior Council member.” Amber moans.

“He might still live,” Dakota says. I don’t contradict him. That curse to the neck is a sure death.

“What are we going to do now?” Amber asks.

“You will be the leader I made you. If you fall apart who will your friends follow?” I give her shoulders a good shake. She reluctantly nods. “I will go and face them. Your job is to do what you swore to. Protect the innocent and helpless.”

“But why are you going out there? They’ll kill you for attacking a Senior Council member. Don’t you understand?” Amber almost begs.

“He will go because they are looking for him. And because he swore the same oath as us. We are his innocents, we are the helpless he is protecting,” Dakota says quietly looking out the window.

I stare at him. He knew? He understands?

“Try to stay alive, Auror Mad-Eye. My great grandfather wants to meet the Outsider.” Dakota smiles at me and I return it. The kid is more connected with his surroundings than I thought.

“Outsider? No, no. He’s not the Outsider. You’re losing it, Dakota!” Amber actually stomps her foot.

“He who holds madness and death in his eyes. Even Marjory noticed that about him.” Dakota points to me. “The Outsider uses a wand, Auror Mad-Eye uses wands. The Outsider wears red robes, looks like a boy, and has round glasses.”

“Auror Mad-Eye has maroon and black clothes. They’re not robes, they’re like a styled trench coat with pants.” Amber obviously is not going to believe it.

“Your third sight did not lie to you, Amber. He is the Outsider and he is a guardian, a good man,” Dakota tries to comfort her.

Amber hangs her head. “You lied,” she says.

“Yes. I didn’t have a good impression of the White Council. Thought you were all the same. I was going to use you to exchange for Charity’s daughter. But after talking to you, I decided to not betray you. You aren’t like others I have met from your council. You have a good spirit, Amber. That is why I showed you my true self before taking your oath.”

She straightens her back and looks at me with an emotionless face. There is strength in it now, though.

“We will take care of the family of the Knight of the Cross. Please be careful with Martha Liberty and The Soothsayer. They are good people,” she gives me my marching orders. She wipes her face with a trembling hand. “I am talking to an Outsider. I am so royally fucked!”

That makes me smile. “Do good people agree to use a little girl to lure a demon, an Outsider?” I ask. “Do good people send assassins to wipe the memories of magic-less women? Or do they attack the wounded and helpless?”

“But they wouldn’t-” Amber protests, stopping when Dakota puts a large hand on her arm.

“My great grandfather has lamented of those things to me before, Amber. The Outsider speaks the truth. Auror Mad-Eye, The Soothsayer is walking to the house. If you wish to stop him from destroying this home, you better do something.” Dakota nods toward the window.

“Why do you call him The Soothsayer?”

“It is because he knows lies in any form. He can tell what is true and not,” Amber tells me, sounding much more resolved. “I hope you come back safe, because if you don’t they will kill us for joining your order. Dakota we’re following a super demon! We – are – so dead.”

Obviously she will have a hard time adjusting. I’d feel bad but the thought of finally hitting them without holding back distracts me for feeling sorry for what I have done.  

“Yes, it is time then.” My blood rushes. I feel alive in a duel. I can see both the well-built man and the tall black woman outside are old and deeply magical. Fighting against those greater in power than me is the only way I know how to fight.

With my wrath back and my old family, I will survive again. I’ll take him head on Ron, you stay under the invisibility cloak, and Hermione you can harass him from behind.

I disapparate.

I am standing in front of the strongly built wizard with gray short cut hair. He looks fierce.

“This is where your council stops hunting innocents, Soothsayer. I will cripple you and stretch your broken existence into eternity before I let you hurt anyone in that home. Tell me, do I speak a lie?” I bear my teeth at the man. My left hand holds Voldemort’s wand, my right the holly wand.

“No, you do not. You are not one to make empty threats. Neither am I. Your innocents are safe from me, demon. I am here for you,” he says in a deep Russian voice.

“Here is another truth for you, Soothsayer. I am not a demon.” I wait for the shock to show on his face and shoot an animation spell at Charity’s red minivan.

Her car crunches into itself and expands in other places, until a giant stag made of red metal is standing. It leaps on The Soothsayer as I jump back.

My duel with a Senior Council wizard of this world has begun.      

_______________

The Russian wizard raises his hand and clenches his fingers. My giant stag is crushed mid-leap like a can. It crashes on the asphalt in a shower of sparks.

I look on in shock for a few long moments. Petrol and oils pool under the compacted metal monster. He did that with just one hand. Without staff or wand.

“You’re not like the others I fought before are you. You can do more than conjure fire and swing a sword?” I ask, furiously thinking.

The Russian smiles without humor. “You may presume I am very different than them. I can, however, swing a sword just as well.”

“Do women fall for that line, or are Russian girls just that easy?” We walk in a circle keeping the other in sight.

He points his staff at me with an incantation I don’t understand. Protego! My blue shield appears just in time to be hit by an enormous force. I am pushed back when the shield repels the attack back at the Russian.

I see him throw himself to the ground. Now’s my chance! There are many, many cars in this neighborhood. I point one wand left the other right, levitating a sedan and a truck.

Here’s to you Professor Lupin. Wadiwashi!

The two cars shoot like bullets at The Soothsayer. He makes a wild motion but it isn’t enough. The sedan flies over him as if he batted it away to fall far behind him, but the truck crashes into him. It drags across the road gouging it in its wake. The truck folds around the tall wizard. I walk in a wide circle trying to see him.

“He is not dead. This is no wet behind the ears Warden you are fighting, demon of the outer gates!”

I jump in the air, whirling around to find myself pinned by the furious gaze of the tall black witch. She’s still ministering to LaFortier. Merlin, she has a frighteningly deep voice.

“If one of your Wardens died, witch, it is through no fault of mine. I left each of them alive, even when they dealt killing blows to me.” I turn my back on the arrogant bitch, and it looks like just in time.

The folded truck is tearing in half. Its two halves are blown apart. The Soothsayer is standing huffing and puffing, scratched up and a little blooded. But not in broken pieces like he should be.

Wingardium Leviosa! Wadiswashi!

Cars, minivans, SUVs lift and hurtle at blinding speeds. One, crash, two, crash, three, crash, four, crash…I lose count. It is maddeningly fun using quarter ton machines like bullets.

The cacophony is unbelievable. People are coming out of their homes, while I am piling up heaps of crushed metal on The Soothsayer. He’s been destroying some cars like he did my transfigured stag, but he can’t keep up with my speed. I don’t have his power, I can’t crush a minivan like him with wand-free magic, but I am much faster.

Hmm, he hasn’t done anything in a few seconds. Is he done for?

“He is not dead,” the witch says behind me. “He is one of the Senior Council. You would have felt his Death Curse if you had killed him.”

I turn to her to see her having taken a place in the middle of the road behind me, staff in hand. Looking to the right I see that LaFortier is passed out, purple cloth tied behind his head.

“And him?”

“He has passed on,” she says shrugging out of the billowy black cloak she is wearing and the purple stole. Under it she wears black robes no where near as dark as her skin. Her hair is iron grey giving her a severe look, or maybe it is just that I have angered her very much.

“He threatened a child in my protection. I despise cowards. I despise friends of cowards just as much. Nothing is sacred to you.” I raise my wands in the air casting a corrupted form of my dragonette manifestation spell. I have too much contempt and disgust for their kind to call any of the minor magic of the Cardinal Light. The Dark will do just fine.

The pain of betrayal, the desperation of being hunted, hate of cowards, wrath, utter and simple wrath become reality. But they are only wraiths; they are not pure manifestations of my spirit like my three dragons. They cannot exist on their own. So I transfigure creatures from the twisted metal of the cars I crushed The Soothsayer with.

There is only one creature I remember with unbridled dark emotions, Remus Lupin’s werewolf. So the sharp-edged and crumpled car wrecks take the form of massive werewolves. The wraiths of my dark side rush to them, screaming in their passing, and animate them. They come up behind me, pausing to howl a terrifying mechanical sound. Like a pack of real wolves they surround Martha Liberty, heads low, uneven, jagged teeth made from Toyota, Subaru, and Chevrolet parts showing through rubber lips curling back over their gums. Oil drips like saliva from their maws.

But Martha Liberty gives them no mind and stares at me. The look on her face is one of contempt. I am glad the feeling is mutual.

“You surprised Simon Petrovich, Outsider. But you will have to do much better than summoning dark souls to possess these caricatures.” She motions dismissively with her hand.

My werewolves rush her, their claws throw up cut up asphalt.

And then they are flattened to the ground inches away from her. I hear their mechanical whimpers. They can only crawl a little and snap their jaws impotently. But the manifestation of my darkness are not weak, they are part myself and part the evil I am touched with. The creatures force themselves up, breaking their transfigured limbs, hurling their broken bodies at the statuesque witch.  

The witch slams her staff on the floor and seemingly the force holding my wolves down gains strength, completely flattening them.

No matter. When I have reached so deeply where I never do, I can go further. Too bad my dark manifestations can’t make their own bodies. She wouldn’t be able to fight them if they could. I shut my eyes, freeing everything from my mind but my most desperate memory. If focusing on a happy memory is what you need to conjure a Patronus, this is the exact opposite. Roqariel Anane showed me the way before.

The terror of a hundred Dementors bleeds from my skin like sweat. I feel chilled, cold, and far away; as if I am about to lose consciousness. I open my eyes halfway, turning the memory inside out. The world becomes gray. Light shies away even though it is an afternoon in summer. The people who had left their homes to see what was going on are dropping where they stand.

Martha Liberty, too, has fallen to her knees. She is holding the staff with both her hands. My werewolves of metal, rubber, and upholstery are off the ground. They are stalking with bodies even more broken after their encounter with the powerful witch outside her circle of protection. A pure white light shimmers in the air where the curved walls of her circle exist.

I know the magic of Dementors passes through these circles. Even though they are meant to stop all magic, some magic is unstoppable. The only defense against this is a Patronus. I watch as she raises one hand over the other on her staff, pulling herself up. I am impressed, she has incredible will.

I can’t help but give her a bow. She doesn’t return the gesture, except giving me a small smile.

What?

“Outsider,” The Soothsayer’s accent has gotten thicker. “Hear the ring of truth!”

My shield comes up around me without thought, in the periphery of my vision my wolves leave Martha Liberty to attack the Russian wizard instead. I don’t see the spell he’s cast, nothing touches my shield.

I hear a gong and it makes the hair on my arms stand on end. It rings again sending a ripple through my body. Things are getting blurry.

My wolves are splattered to the ground again halfway between me and The Soothsayer. Martha Liberty is out of her circle, with her staff pointed at my wraith possessed creatures. I raise my wand at her to stop her. But I hear the gong again, and this time my ears ache, with black spots in front of my eyes. The old witch has her hand stretched palm out at me when my eyesight clears. I feel something pulling me to the ground. I try to resist but it is impossible.

Agh! I fell? Merlin, my face is trying to sink through the ground. And the cursed gong won’t stop ringing.

“In the mortal world you must obey mortal forces of nature, Outsider. You cannot escape gravity multiplied by my magic,” Martha Liberty says with satisfaction, looking down on me.

“Do you hear the ring of truth yet, Outsider?” The Soothsayer is bloodied and holding his arms close to himself. His face is swelling and cut in many places. I can’t get up to do anything about him. “No, you don’t yet. Know the truth of everything and your place in it. Farewell, Outsider, you will not live through this experience.” He is dropping his staff from his skinned hands. I watch it lightly fall.

I hear the gong again when the staff clatters to the road.

I see blackness with pinpricks of stars rush at me. I see every atom in my body. I see magic, I see strands of meaningless life, ignored death, I see evil and good with the same face. Everything is so fast, so small, so big. It’s all wrong, it’s too much. It’s stretching, everything is…everything is…nothing.

My mind can’t take this. I don’t know what I am seeing.

I’m breaking, I’m dying.

Roqa is screaming. My friends are screaming.

My keeper, help us! Roqa is wailing.

…

I see reality and it is just – wrong.

…

No more, please no more.

… My heart is beating; I can hear it. My eyes are clearing a little. I am peaceful, suspended in ice water of the Cardinal Light’s full presence. It was like this after I used one of three cardinal spells to kill Voldemort.

Martha Liberty is still standing above me, holding me down with her gravity manipulation power. My arms are flopping with rest of my body from the intensity of The Soothsayer’s spell. The Cardinal Light is protecting me from completely succumbing and dying. But I have to escape. It can’t fully step in to save my life, those are the rules. They are giving me a chance.

My hands are still wrapped around the wands. She’s not even looking at it.

Merlin, let this spell work.

“S – uh…Severarmus!” I croak. The spell looks just like the disarming charm. It rips her staff holding arm from its shoulder. Blood spurts from the wound, and she falls without sound, probably the pain shocked her too much to scream.

I can move again and roll away. My body aches, and my thoughts are still…fucked. Soothsayer – he’s trying to help her, but he is wounded himself. What’s this? There is blood on my cheeks. I can’t walk straight.

I have to get away from here, but I can’t balance. Cursed Morgana, am I crawling? What did they do to me? But I can’t leave without saving Molly.

Let me heal you. Just say you need me to heal you and I will. I will take care of both of us, Roqariel begs.

“No!” I yell hoarsely. I can’t let her win. She betrayed me. I remember now…I saw reality, it was wrong, it was…unreal.

Please, I am begging here. Give me the strength to protect them. I gave my word to Charity, I say in my mind before trying to summon the Light magic that is mine to call. I can’t move my wands, I can hardly crawl. The shivering power of my dragonets jumps on my skin. Through my blurry eyes I can see their twisting white lightening bodies gambol around me.

Three Chinese fireballs made of lightening. Beings of my very spirit. Not cheap corrupt copies the dark wraiths were. These six-foot long dragons can create their own bodies, have their own cunning and sentience. They are reflectionS of myself.

They will do right by me. They won’t let the White Council near the Carpenter house. I finally start hearing Martha Liberty’s moans of agony.

Have to get away.

Beaten again. Saved by something other than my own power again!

I see shoes running toward me, brown cloth flapping around them. Amber Palmer and Dakota’s faces swim in view.

“Auror Mad-Eye, I should go to the Senior Council members. I think it is right,” Dakota says crouching down to be eye level with me. I am still crawling. Does this Buddha wanna-be really think I give a shit about he thinks right now.

“He can’t even see straight, Dakota. Do what you need to. He said keep to the oath, go!” Amber Palmer puts her arms under my shoulder, trying to pick me up. I fall all over her, weighing her down, but she drags me to the house somehow. The dragons play around our feet and come into the house.

Hope Charity doesn’t mind pets.